


i'll never smile again

by bleakmidwinter



Category: Rope (1948)
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, References To Pedophilia, Sexual Trauma, and phillips a teddy bear, but i think you get the picture, im really just trying to tag all the triggers so everyone is good, it's a dark angsty hurt/comfort fic, its not for pervs, references to professor/student relationship, rupert bad and brandon sad, team rupert cadell should die, this fic is anti pedophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 23:31:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17477018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleakmidwinter/pseuds/bleakmidwinter
Summary: rupert cadell ended everything with brandon shaw during his junior year of prep school and phillip is the only one there for him to help him through the aftermath of what had been done to him





	i'll never smile again

**Author's Note:**

> title from the ink spots "i'll never smile again"

Phillip has seen Brandon Shaw cry once. 

 

It was the latter half of their sophomore year at Somerville; a grey-skyed afternoon that smelled too strongly of rain on dirt and pollution seeping in from the heart of the city to the suburban outskirts of Manhattan. 

 

Phillip spent most of the day staring out the window, counting the droplets of rain as they splattered against it, reminded himself that eventually he’d have to do something with his life, find a career path. Start a family after school, perhaps. 

 

Yeah, right.

 

Being the productive student he was, Phillip normally did not lay around doing nothing, but it was so he felt a stirring in his chest that told him something was wrong about the day. As much as he wondered about his own future, he wondered more about how Brandon was going to be a part of it.

 

As he had for years.

 

The door to their dorm room opened, and Phillip had no time to wonder why Brandon was back so early from his private lessons with Rupert Cadell. 

 

Brandon’s broad, yet concurrently lanky, frame molded poignantly back against the door once it was shut, and Phillip observed all color had been drained from his cheeks and fingertips. At the same time, the rain hadn’t been kind to him.

 

He was wet from head to toe.

 

“Brandon, what's wrong?” Phillip asked. It had taken a while to find his voice. 

 

Brandon couldn’t seem to hear him. That, or he was formulating a response. Shaky long fingers dug around for a cigarette in his pocket, and when he lit it, he didn't look relieved as he normally did. And the shaking didn’t stop. 

 

“What time is it?” He whispered. Phillip glanced at the clock above Brandon.

 

“Six. Your private lesson ends at seven,” Phillip replied, wary. He knew Rupert Cadell well. He was a tough professor and housemaster. Phillip hoped dearly that he didn’t drop Brandon. Despite Phillip’s personal issues with the man, Philosophy seemed to be the only thing Brandon cared about other than the thrill of danger. 

 

Brandon dangled the cigarette between his fingers, and allowed the smoke to travel to and dissipate at the ceiling as he undressed with one hand. 

 

Phillip’s eyes flickered down to his own hands, fiddled with his thumbs, and ignored the warmth he felt in his cheeks. “Are you alright?” 

 

Maybe if he asked Brandon twenty more questions, he might answer at least one. 

 

“No,” Brandon said back before Phillip could think of anything else to say. 

 

An admission of weakness. Very unlike Brandon. Phillip got up off his bed and closed the short gap between them and placed a hand on Brandon’s back and Brandon jerked backwards so violently, Phillip drew his hand away like he’d been burned.

 

“Brandon, what in the wor –”

 

“Rupert ended things,” Brandon croaked, and tears welled up in his eyes. Phillip blinked, and his hands itched to reach out towards him again. 

 

“Not just with, th-the teachings, but with  _ us _ .” Brandon brought a sleeve up to his mouth, and turned but Phillip could still see him biting the fabric. 

 

Phillip closed his eyes. 

 

It had been easy to ignore what had been happening with Rupert and Brandon for years. He merely hadn’t asked questions about Rupert, and Brandon only brought up what happened behind the scenes of their private lessons when he felt on top of the world, and irrevocably adored, and needed to share with someone, his only friend, Phillip how wonderful a man Rupert Cadell was.

 

Phillip first found out a week after the first ‘occurance.’ Bruises started showing up on Brandon’s skin and Brandon had a sickening glow about him that he’d recognized from teenagers at theaters who disappeared together into the bathroom for a little too long, or from his mother after she’d entertained one of their ‘house guests’ at home. 

 

Phillip wasn’t an idiot. And he wasn’t pretending the issue didn’t exist. But, it wasn’t so easy to mention anything to anyone of authority. Brandon worshipped Rupert. He’d despise Phillip forever if he had anything to do with the punishment of his dear professor. 

 

Maintaining his relationship with Brandon was far more important to him, and perhaps that was selfish, but he expected it to happen only once or twice, but it went on for years. Until it was their third year of prep school, and Phillip’s heart had ached so painfully for Brandon that he barely felt like more than a skeleton of who he used to be. 

 

Moral judgement clouded by his insatiable need for Brandon Shaw.

 

As Brandon cried with his back turned to Phillip, Phillip promised himself one day he’d stick a knife in the heart of Rupert Cadell. Maybe give it a couple little twists for every tear Brandon spent on his cowardly self.

 

Phillip stepped forward, and didn’t say a word. He merely pressed his head against Brandon’s back and circled his arms around his middle and held him until Brandon’s shaky breathing calmed down, and he placed a hand over Phillip’s

 

Phillip couldn’t control the gasp that escaped his lips and he cursed himself in his head as Brandon turned with a curious expression plastered on his face. It soon twisted into a somber one again and he put a hand on Phillip’s shoulder.

 

“You’re always here for me, Phillip.”

 

Valiantly, he attempted to remain impassive. 

 

“It’s because I care about you, Brandon.”

 

Brandon’s eyes were red and his eyelashes wet, and the hand on Phillip’s shoulder moved closer to his neck. His touch was gentle, so similar to the countless dreams Phillip had conjured up late at night, and juxtaposed to the real life Brandon Shaw.

 

“Please talk to me, about anything other than him,” Brandon’s voice fell into a whisper once more, and Phillip led him to his bed where they sat and Brandon could rest his head against the wall and stare at the empty bed parallel Phillip’s. 

 

“I finished the book you recommended while you were gone,” Phillip said after a short while. Brandon’s lips twitched up. 

 

“Passion governing human nature rather than reason, hm?” Phillip elbowed Brandon gently. “Sounds like someone I know.” 

 

“Oh rot, I’m the most reasonable man you know.”

 

“You’re a child. Not a man,” Phillip reminded. And the atmosphere in the room shifted. Brandon’s eyes were glazed over suddenly, as if he had never truly thought of how young he really was. And Phillip realized the failing of phrasing.

 

“Brandon, it’s a good thing.” 

 

“What is?” 

 

“That things have ended.”

 

Brandon’s eyes snapped wide open and he turned to face Phillip. He wanted desperately to protest, Phillip could see it in his eyes. But, he’d be wrong on every account. Brandon could never support his own wants and needs, as much as he desired them for his own self, and he knew that very well.

 

“I promise you,” Phillip continued. Nervously, he placed a hand atop Brandon’s where it rested in the gap between their thighs on the bed. “You need time for yourself. It was suffocating you, you know it was, Brandon. I’m here for you from now on.” 

 

There was a switch in Brandon’s gaze, and Phillip was being kissed before he could breathe. 

 

Something about it was wrong, but Phillip had waited for it for so long that he kissed back as much as he could with Brandon pushing firmly against him, so firmly that it seemed he was being lowered onto his back. 

 

Brandon’s mouth tasted like cigarettes and it was warm and wet, far too urgent, and Phillip was so focused on being able to breathe and kiss back at the same time, that he didn’t notice his buckle being undone, and his pants being zipped down until he felt long fingers dancing above his waistband.

 

Phillip’s eyes shot open and he shoved Brandon off of him, but he only landed two feet back on the bed, and he looked utterly shocked. As if everything he’d done had been normal, and not uncalled for in the slightest. 

 

“Brandon, what on Earth is the matter with you?” Phillip rasped, and wiped his mouth with a sleeve.

 

Brandon was staring at Phillip’s groin, as if he were planning multiple strategies to get into his pants that wouldn’t result in being shoved off again. It was unnerving.

 

Phillip wanted him, yes, but not like this. Not as some rebound, or a replacement. 

 

Brandon glanced up suddenly, shiny lips opening and stuttering over words. “Don’t you want me?” He said it so innocently, it made Phillip want to scream.

 

Or laugh. Hysterically. This had to be a joke, a cruel prank God decided to play on him.

 

Phillip ran a hand threw his hair. “I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t. But, this isn’t the time for it at all, Brandon. I’d have thought you’d be smart enough to know that.”

 

Brandon looked devastated. 

 

Phillip simply didn’t understand. If it was rebound sex he wanted, why wouldn’t he act like his normal self, and act impassively suave after being rejected, like he’d never wanted it in the first place. That would be the  _ Brandon _ thing to do. 

 

Phillip was seeing too clearly into a side of Brandon he’d never wanted to admit could exist.

A Brandon that Rupert Cadell had crafted himself.

 

Brandon climbed back over Phillip and stared at him so fiercely, Phillip could only be quiet. 

 

“I won’t disappoint you,” Brandon assured. As if Phillip expected the finest expertise. “I promise, I-I’ve had experience. You’ve done everything for me, Phillip. You’re the only person who cares about me.”

 

Brandon reached down and ran a hand up Phillip’s leg. Phillip stiffened and forced his body not to respond to the touches as he worked at pushing Brandon off of him again, this time gentler than before.

 

Brandon lowered his head towards the space between Phillip’s legs and Phillip sat up, inching away even as Brandon tried to follow. 

 

“Phillip, please, this is the only way I can repay you,” Brandon begged. Phillip’s eyes widened.

 

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Phillip questioned softly, sympathetically. He finally got Brandon off of him again, and brought him up into a sitting position as well.

 

Brandon’s gaze flicked back and forth towards Phillip, his hands, and the rain outside. He couldn’t think of a response. His lip quivered, and Phillip worried the denial he’d been living in for years with Rupert was slowly slipping away. 

 

Phillip took Brandon’s face in his hands, and Brandon snapped back into reality, and stared at Phillip, and his eyes expressed a pure  _ need _ . For what specifically, Phillip may never know. 

 

“I do want you Brandon, but not like this. There are so many other ways you can express your gratitude towards me,” Phillip explained. Brandon’s eyes flickered down to Phillip’s lips, and Phillip could feel him leaning in again, but he gripped Brandon’s head firmly in place so he couldn’t move.

 

“No, I’m saying  _ no. _ ”

 

Brandon swallowed, and pulled back, and looked almost guilty. Mostly just embarrassed. 

 

It didn’t suit him. 

Phillip settled against the wall again and daringly ran a hand threw Brandon’s hair, still damp from the rain, and tugged it slightly so Brandon lay his head down on his lap. 

 

Brandon did as he was ordered and looked up expectantly at Phillip who merely said, “I’ll take care of you tonight, you don’t need to do anything. You’ve done nothing wrong, do you understand me?”

 

He never responded, merely looked away and stared into a space that wasn’t there. Phillip wished he would have said something. He wished that the repercussions of what Rupert had done could wash away as easily as the raindrops from the window beside the bed. 

 

Phillip supposed they never would. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to gus like most of these fics are because they always derive off a conversation we have about this beautifully fantastic dumb movie. thank you hitchcock and arthur laurents for my life


End file.
